


The Wounds We Heal

by RichmanBachard



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Flirting, Blood and Injury, Fluff, Miragehound Bomb (Apex Legends), Other, Present Tense, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25156315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichmanBachard/pseuds/RichmanBachard
Summary: Mirage is injured. Bloodhound seems happy to oblige.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Kudos: 28





	The Wounds We Heal

_“Ow.”_

Bloodhound gives their eyes a brief roll, chiding him with an all too quiet hiss. He’s laying it on thick just to bother them. Of course he is. The hiss leaves Mirage to simply stir under their presence. The intense gaze of the mask-plating’s goggles are piercing, intense, refusing to leave his form. The look does little to stop his wincing, but they ignore it—or, at least, they’re trying to. He smiles through the pain. The smile they’ve come to despise after so long. Hound often prefers to look away when that happens, but they can’t, not when there’s wounds in need of tending. For the mission. 

Mirage’s lips part to speak, but he’s shushed.

“Not another word from you,” they say, their ministrations careful but no less concise. The moment to heal was opportune, the pair affording the time to recover in a lowly shack, already picked clean, far from battle. The gel of the health kit they’ve applied works well enough but Mirage looks... good with a wealth of bandages. It gives him character. Not that Bloodhound cares, but-

Mirage raises his brows suggestively, as if he was beginning to read their thoughts, but then he squints. “Not so hard,” he motions, “and maybe, uh, I’d oblige you. Until then, _ow.”_

“You’d never oblige me.”

He hums. “Wouldn’t I?”

Bloodhound tightens the grip upon his wrist as another bandage is placed, encircling the scarring along the softness of his skin. A speck of blood still remains. They wipe a gentle thumb across it, dispelling the smear into something lesser. Bloodhound sighs. “You’re stupid.”

He smiles again. He can’t help it. “Heh, yeah, but you’re stupid....ly beautiful, y’know that?”

There’s a pause between them, incredibly awkward and growing all the more pregnant. Mirage eyes them, then their bird. He was beginning to sweat bullets. Hound hopes so, in that respect. It might’ve made him more useful in the field.

Still, Bloodhound refuses to acknowledge him with a credible response. Mirage doesn’t deserve one. He never does but especially now. They mutter a small noise after a few more seconds of quiet between the pair. The smallest little hum. He can’t see their face but he wagers it’s something positive. Something close to it. True to form, he persists in his line of questioning. “Are you blushing?” 

“No.”

The largest, most obnoxious grin possible begins to crease the dryness of his lips. It’s awful, Hound hates it but doesn’t look away. They change the subject. “There are frightening things out here, little man. You got... lucky. The Allfather is rarely so kind.”

He rolls the notion around in his head. “Ehh.. I think I, uhm, I usually do pretty fine without his kindness.” He pauses, briefly sucking his teeth. “Yours is nice, though. I like yours.” He winces after they apply further pressure. “Ow!”

“You are a child.”

“No I’m not,” he replies. They know what he’s about to say. They’re dreading it. “Last I checked, pretty sure I was a big, sexy ma-“

Artur squawks at him then, fed up with his shit. And that does the trick. He despises not just Mirage’s smile but his entire presence. The looks Artur gives Hound thereafter says it all. The click of his beak, the glint in his eye. Bloodhound gives him a few, small scratches for a job well done.

Mirage let’s it happen, preferring to hold his tongue. It’s the smarter choice. He’s wise at times. Selectively smart, as he likes to call it. In Bloodhound’s eyes the jury was still out on that one.

Again, there’s another moment of quiet. It gives Mirage time to think. Caustic had gotten the better of him for a change. It could do terrible numbers if recounted on his social media feeds, but... a moment of vulnerability renders a man liable to reflect.

He eyes his partner, watching their tender ministrations as another gel pack is placed. More bandages to follow. They’re often cold, dismissive. He’s known that. Yet their touch is so... warm. Warm and careful. Bloodhound let’s slip another hum. He finds the noise rather cute. In truth he always had. He finds himself thinking about them. For months he’s thought about them a lot. He’s looking at them, and Bloodhound briefly looks back. Another, wordless conversation having taken place. 

He is lucky.

“Thank you,” he offers simply after another moment of quiet, yet another bandage applied, a genuineness to his tone. Hound knows well of it, despite his best efforts to the contrary at times, but it always catches them off-guard. Just a touch. “Ya don’t have to keep patchin’ me up like this, y’know. I mean I’m flattered, but-“

“We endure together, we survive together.”

He cocks a brow. “What?”

Bloodhound glances toward him. “You heard what I’ve said.” They tap a lone finger against the side of his head. Several, harsh pokes. “Your ears surely work, do they not?” They hum. “W-We are... a team. I find your skills useful.” A reluctant pause. “At times.”

He strokes his chin, ignoring their prodding. Then, one of his several decoys appear - a horrid sight that Artur begins to hiss at, until his owner calms him - and strokes his own chin as well. Mirage makes a face. What a drag.

Before the mood is murdered and left in an unmarked grave, Mirage waves the decoy off dismissively before the form reluctantly dissipates. Now was hardly the time. After, he’s able to focus. “W-Well, uh.. I cleaned ‘em just before we dropped, so... uh- yeah, think they do. Why? Wanna double-check or something?”

Hound gives another quiet sigh, finishing up with one last strap applied. “You are _infuriating.”_

He smiles. Nothing holding him back. “I love you too, babycakes.”

They’re definitely blushing now, they have to be. Mirage chuckles lowly. Bloodhound feels so much but still they’ll refuse to admit it. On principle. Something else stirs instead. A wicked grin that he never sees. 

A kind of revenge.

Shortly after, elsewhere, Revenant’s still off on his own. He had long since tired of their back and forth. Bickering and teasing and prodding, both giving as good as they got. Revenant’s disgusted by it, annoyed. He’s big, tough, and foreboding. He doesn’t need teammates, he needs to kill. 

No matter how much the others make fun of him for it.

Then, to his chagrin he soon hears the distant screams of Mirage, and a bird’s caw. Sounds like he’s getting chased. 

Revenant sighs.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow [@RichmanBachard](https://twitter.com/RichmanBachard) and [@RichmanSFW](https://twitter.com/RichmanSFW) to keep up with my stories, my commission info, and my insanity.


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